


Next Time, I Choose Death

by CeliPuff, Winchesterlovr0508



Series: Bunker Diaries [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Bisexual Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester in the Men of Letters Bunker, Covid-19 Related, Crack, Diary/Journal, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), POV Sam Winchester, Quarantine, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester’s Journal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:20:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23373802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeliPuff/pseuds/CeliPuff, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winchesterlovr0508/pseuds/Winchesterlovr0508
Summary: In light of this pandemic, I decided to write some daily journal entries on how we survived the 14 day quarantine. It’s me, my brother and my best friend, what can go wrong?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Bunker Diaries [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1689235
Comments: 71
Kudos: 190
Collections: Lock Down Fest





	Next Time, I Choose Death

**Author's Note:**

> We literally just went back and forth with this one, making each other die laughing with the shit poor Sam would have to put up with if he was on lock down with these two idiots. If you’re trapped at home like the rest of us, and want to laugh, we hope this can at least make you smile! 
> 
> Warning: this isn’t even beta’d, enjoy 😊

**Day One:**

The government says we should stay inside because some crazy virus is spreading across the country like wildfire. 14 days we have to stay indoors. 14 days in the bunker with Cas and Dean. This should be a walk in the park. 

**_Lunch time_**

I was wrong. _Very, very wrong._ Dean went through a list of things Cas has never had in his millennia of years on this planet. First on that list? Hot chocolate. Dean being the _genius_ that he is, didn’t warn Cas that it would be _hot._ Cas chugged it. And spat it out. Where, you ask? In. My. Face. Chuck help us. 

And then they argued... for three hours. 

Dean told him to go to hell, Cas told him he’d already been... thanks to Dean. Dean responded with _“and how’d we land in purgatory Cas?”_ and then it got weirdly quiet and I couldn’t find them anywhere.

**_Evening_**

Dean got drunk. He got the bright idea to turn the northeast hallway into a slip n slide. Cas isn’t helping _at all._ He’s plastered and keeps healing Dean whenever he runs into the wall. I don’t know who’s worse. At this point, I hope Dean gets a concussion and passes out so I can get some sleep. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Dean caught Cas watching porn. It went something like this…

Dean: “Is that dude porn?”

Cas: “Figuratively, yes.”

Dean: “You like the dude ones?”

Cas: “Yes Dean, I prefer them.”

_Silence._

Quick question, what the fuck is going on?

**Day Two:**

I was awoken by them arguing again. This time on whether honey is an acceptable sandwich filler since Cas made multiple layers of nothing but honey and bread. 

Dean wouldn’t let him taste it. He said _“It’s for your own good buddy.”_ Why does he always call him buddy? Even a blind person can see they are more than buddies. 

The way Cas was reaching for the quadruple decker sandwich and Dean was keeping him back by placing his hand on his forehead, they looked like a cartoon. And that about sums up my life in this place. I live with Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck. 

I miss the apocalypse. 

**Day Three:**

**_3 a.m._**

I’m completely convinced that if these two were stuck here alone, they’d die a horribly embarrassing death. Apparently, I’m the only one who restocks the toilet paper, so when the roll ran out, Dean thought we were completely out. So naturally, being a dumbass, he started packing the knives and guns to go on a store run. Spoiler alert: we have an entire _closet_ full of toilet paper just down the hall. 

In celebration that he didn’t have to “go bash some fricken heads for some shit paper”, Dean got hammered. Again. Only this time he slammed his cassette of classic rock and decided to put on a concert. Another spoiler alert: Dean _can not_ sing. 

After his horrible rendition of “Wanted: Dead or Alive” and “Friends In Low Places”, he started singing directly to Cas. Who was now eating his honey sandwich… You can’t make this stuff up. He sang “I Can’t Fight This Feeling” to a sticky mouthed angel. Now as I’m trying desperately to fall asleep, Dean’s standing on the table… screaming “he’s my cherry pie!” While Warrant is playing. Aaaand now Cas is helping. I keep hearing from the other room, “I’m his cherry pir!” I guess his mouth is still full. I hope it’s with the sandwich. 

**Day Four:**

I can’t believe I thought we would _rest_ during this quarantine. It’s not even 10am and I’ve already saved both Dean _and_ Cas’ lives. 

They were throwing angel blades.

I should just let natural selection take its course but… I don’t want to deal with the bodies. 

There are still **10** days left, after all.

**Day Five:**

I slept in the Impala last night just so I didn’t have to deal with them. I haven’t went back inside yet, wonder if they’re alive. Man, I don’t want to go back in there. Can I cook a can of spaghetti-o’s on a cigarette lighter? Asking for a friend. 

I just heard a crash. From outside. Outside the _soundproof_ bunker. I guess that answers one of my questions. 

I finally got the nerve to enter the bunker and as it turns out, they were making pancakes. Cas wanted Dean to make him bee shaped ones but Dean does _not_ have that skillset. 

Instead of saying no, he tried, and failed, 43 times. And then he threw the pan. Guess we’ll be having old pancakes for a few days.

**_Evening_**

This has to be said. If I’m dead, whoever reads this needs to know that one of these men are in their 30’s and the other is an Angel older than man. They are not five.

I repeat, they. are. not. five!

Also, the term panty pudding is now officially and begrudgingly a part of my vocabulary now. 

**Day Six:**

I find myself writing in this less. It isn’t because there isn’t a story… but because I can’t even comprehend what the hell is happening. I’m fairly certain they are fucking now. I’m not ready to talk about it, ask me again tomorrow.

**Day Seven:**

~~Absolutely 100% fucking! I have to bleach my eyes!~~

**Day Nine:**

We aren’t talking about the other day. Instead, let’s talk about yesterday. The day that they decided to take out Cas’ grace because Dean wanted to taste it. You read that right… taste. He believed it would taste like cotton candy.

Spoiler alert: It didn’t.

As I’m writing this... Dean just cut himself on a samurai sword because he didn’t think it was sharp.

At least he had enough self preservation to return the grace to his angel, you know, the one that can heal him. I mean why toy with that in the first place. Ugh, I’m surrounded by idiots.

**Day Ten:**

I still can’t look either of them in the eye. But now that I think about it, this explains a _lot_ about Dean. And that random pair of pink lace panties I found in his laundry one time. I think I’m going to be sick. 

Wait. Is there even a _word_ for this? Angelsexual? Celestisexual? My head hurts. 

I just heard Castiel, Angel of the _freakin_ lord say “Gonna wrap them bowlegs around me like a fucking gift wrap” as I walked past Dean’s room. 

I can’t.

**Day Thirteen:**

They’ve finally taken a break from their fuck fest. No amount of Lysol can cleanse the things done here. This whole bunker needs to be cleansed with fire. 

Also, I googled what it means to be someone’s “huckleberry” and I’m never reading Mark Twain again. 

I gotta go, I’m being assaulted by powdered donuts. What kind of fuckery is this??

**Day Fourteen:**

It’s over. We all made it through alive, thanks to the healing angel at our disposal, but I will never look at them the same again.

Cas better wash his hands before he tries to heal me next.

So this journal that was supposed to be about this quarantine ended up being my brother’s journey of getting railed in the ass by an angel in a trench coat. 

I expected more zombies and less butt sex during the next apocalypse but now I see this wasn’t even an apocalypse, just a huge inconvenience for the world. Currently on the market for new roommates.

  * Sam Winchester 



**Author's Note:**

> Due to the overwhelming love we are getting for this, we may add more journal entries in the future. Be sure to subscribe 😊


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